


One for the History Books

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Young Riders
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A threat to Rachel pulls Jimmy into another gunfight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One for the History Books

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine The Pony Express #2.

The wagon wheel rolled over a bump in the dusty road and jounced the two people seated above. One of them groaned.

“Rachel, by the time we get to Rock Creek, I’m gonna be too sore to sit a saddle for at least a week.”

“Now, Noah, it can’t be too much further. I knew I should have ridden with Ike.”

She glanced back at the wagon lumbering along behind them, being driven by a boy with a red bandanna tied about his head under a wide hat brim.

“At least he couldn’t talk my ear off, not with his hands occupied with the reins,” Rachel Dunne continued.

“You been sayin’ we’re almost there for the last hundred miles,” grumbled Noah Dixon before subsiding into a wounded silence.

The blonde woman regarded her young companion for a moment, an annoyed retort on the tip of her tongue, then relented.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Noah. This move’s gettin’ on all our nerves. Leavin’ our home behind, up an’ goin’ to a strange place, so sudden like that and so far away…” She trailed off as she spotted a bridge ahead.

“Look,” she pointed excitedly, “if that’s Rock Creek, then the town can’t be far away.”

“About time,” Noah said. “Whoa, there.”

He drew the horses to a stop at a gate blocking the path where the dirt road met a wooden bridge. The buckskin tied to the back of the wagon shook its dark-maned head and snorted as it also stopped, blowing out the dust churned up by the wheels. It lifted its head and pricked its ears forward at the smell of the fresh creek water.

The second wagon pulled up behind them. One of the riders on horseback stopped alongside it, but the other left her side and rode up to the lead wagon.

“What’s the hold-up?” inquired Buck Cross.

Noah indicated the gate across the bridge.

Just then a man ambled out of a nearby shack and over to the caravan. He tucked his thumbs into his suspenders as he surveyed them.

“Well now, this here’s quite a load you’re totin’. Headed to Rock Creek, are ye?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Rachel answered. “We’re moving there. We’ve come all the way from Sweetwater.”

“Sweetwater! That’s a fur piece. You’re almost at the end of your trail now, though, oncet you cross my bridge. I’ll be collectin’ a toll from you afore you pass.”

“Toll! You mean we got to pay just to drive across this bridge?” Noah was astonished.

“That’s right. I’m the one built the bridge and I got a right to charge for the service. Course, you’re always welcome to try to ford the crick, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Buck walked his horse to the steep bank and looked down at the creek. With the heavily laden wagons, they’d be lucky if it only took all day. He looked back up at Noah and shook his head.

“How much?” Noah asked in resignation.

The tollkeeper considered.

“Hmmm, let’s see now. That’s two wagons, and five people, and one, two, three… eight horses, that’ll be fifty cents for the wagons and, hmm… I reckon $2.80 oughtta cover it.”

“$2.80!” Noah was outraged.

“Pay the man, Noah,” Rachel advised. “You want to get to Rock Creek today, don’t you? Besides, we’ll get it back from the company.”

Noah dug in his pocket and reluctantly counted out $2.80. The man accepted it and nodded to the lady.

“Thank ye, ma’am. Name’s McCanles, David McCanles. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Why thank you, Mr. McCanles. I’m glad to meet one of our new neighbors. I’m Rachel Dunne and these are some of the Pony Express riders going to be workin’ out of the new home station in town.”

“The Pony Express! Why, iffen you ain’t the very people I need to talk to! I ain’t been havin’ any luck writin’ to the Express office in St. Jo, no luck at all. Your company owes me money on the station that burned down out here. I sold it to ‘em, ya see, and they was payin’ it off in installments, but it burned down before they finished payin’ up, and now they’re sayin’ they ain’t gonna pay no more.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Rachel said hesitantly, looking from Noah to Buck. They knew about the fire of course. That was the reason Jimmy and Kid had come out to Rock Creek in the first place, to rebuild the station. With all the trouble between the slavers and the free-staters, they’d decided it would be safer to build a new station in town,

After Teaspoon and Cody had joined them there, they’d received news that Russell, Majors, & Waddell wanted them to stay. They needed an experienced staff to ensure the mail continued to get through a region where folks would as soon blow a spark into a blaze as throw water on it. Sooner, in fact.

The rest of them had packed up all their belongings and set out for their new home as soon as they’d gotten word. They had heard nothing about a dispute with the original station owner, however.

“The man you should be talkin’ to is Teaspoon Hunter,” Rachel suggested to McCanles. “He’s the station manager; maybe he can help you.”

“Hunter? Ain’t he the new marshal?”

“That’s right,” Buck answered. “You can probably find him most anytime at the marshal’s office in town.”

“I’ll do that right enough, an’ you can tell him I’ll be comin’,” McCanles declared. “I aim to get what’s owed me. They done picked the wrong man to try and cheat.”

“Yeah well, we’ll do that, but right now we need to be on our way” Noah interrupted his harangue, “so if you could just open that gate…”

“All right, all right, don’t git yerself in a pucker. I’m gittin’ to it… Monroe! Monroe, git over here and help me with this gate,” he called as he turned and trudged over to the bridge.

A boy of about twelve scrambled up the creek bank and ran to help McCanles pull the gate open to let them pass.

Noah slapped the reins and the horses walked across. Ike followed suit, and Buck fell in beside his friend to fill him and Lou in on the parts of the conversation they’d missed. They soon left Rock Creek behind and advanced upon the town that carried its name.

“He didn’t sound too happy with the comp’ny,” Noah commented.

“I’m sure Teaspoon will handle it,” Rachel said absently. She was craning her neck to try and get a glimpse of the town.

“Surely we must be almost there now,” she said.

Noah shot her a sidelong look and clucked to the horses.

“I hate moving,” he said.

*****

“Mr. McCanles, I sympathize with your problem, but Russell, Majors, & Waddell ain’t gonna pay for a station that ain’t there no more!” Teaspoon said in exasperation. He’d been trying to get through to McCanles for a good fifteen minutes, but the man wasn’t hearing him—or wasn’t accepting what he was hearing.

“Hunter, I done told you I ain’t gonna stand for it! I know my rights and they gotta pay what they owe me. You’re supposed to be the law around here now. Cain’t you do somethin’ about that?”

Teaspoon ground his teeth together and tried again.

“And I done told you that the company ain’t legally bound to pay any more for a place that’s been burned to the ground. They explained all that in the letter they wrote ya.”

“That’s just a lot of fancy talk. You gonna let ‘em get away with it?”

Teaspoon realized he was getting nowhere going over and over the same ground. He decided to try a new approach.

“They ain’t got the money to pay you with nohow. The Pony Express is losin’ money. They’re havin’ a hard time comin’ up with expenses and the riders’ pay. The only reason they keep goin’ at all is ‘cause the government needs ‘em so badly right now. I done all I could, but you’re just gonna have to take your loss.”

McCanles shook his fist in Teaspoon’s face.

“Call yourself the law? You’re workin’ for the company, o’ course you’ll take their side. You ain’t heard the last o’ this, Hunter.”

He stormed out of the marshal’s office. Teaspoon sighed at the slamming door.

“No, I don’t suppose I have,” he muttered.

*****

Dave McCanles sat in the saloon nursing a whiskey and holding forth on his grievances to his two hired hands. The more he talked, the more he convinced himself of the justness of his own cause.

Woods and Gordon agreed with him. After all, it wasn’t often that the old skinflint bought their drinks. Agreement was a cheap enough price to pay to keep the boss in this mood.

McCanles was whipping himself into a state. It wasn’t so much the alcohol as the sympathetic ears of his audience that encouraged him to see himself as being taken advantage of. He was the persecuted underdog, being ground under the heel of big business, but he was damned if he was going to take it anymore.

“What are you gonna do about it?” James Gordon asked when McCanles paused in his speechifying to take a breath.

“Huh?”

“Do. What are you gonna do?”

“Do?” repeated McCanles, momentarily caught off guard. “Why, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” he recovered himself. “I’m gonna show ‘em, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna show ‘em they can’t push me around like that. Are you with me?”

“Yeah! We’re with you, Dave,” the two men chorused, finishing their drinks and banging their empty glasses down on the table.

“Then let’s go. We’re gonna march right over to that there Pony Express station and demand what’s coming to me.”

McCanles stood up and his two men enthusiastically followed him outside. He called to his son, who’d been hanging about nearby, waiting for his pa to finish up in the saloon.

“Monroe! You come along with me, boy. Come and watch them learn that they can’t mess with your pa.”

Monroe obediently tagged along. The group headed determinedly for the riders’ bunkhouse.

The boys and Lou were all out on rides or on errands. Rachel was taking this opportunity to tidy up a bit. She hummed as she set out fresh sheets for the boys to make up their bunks. She was startled by the loud banging on the door.

“You in there. Pony Express. Open up!”

Rachel opened the door a cautious crack and looked out.

“Mr. McCanles,” she said as she recognized the tollkeeper.

He seemed surprised to see a woman, but didn’t lose any of his bluster.

“Ma’am, I come to collect what’s owed me,” he declared.

His men gave emphatic nods.

Rachel had heard all about the problem from Teaspoon and knew there was nothing to be done. McCanles obviously didn’t want to hear that, however. It was best to let Teaspoon deal with this.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to talk to Marshal Hunter about it,” she said.

“I’m through talkin’,” McCanles announced. “If no one’s gonna give me what I got coming, then mebbe it’s time I just started in ta take it.”

He turned to his companions to make sure of their support and Rachel, not liking the sound of this, took the opportunity to shut and bolt the door. McCanles turned back around too late to do more than ineffectively pound on it.

“Hey!” he yelled indignantly. “Open up!”

“No, sir!” Rachel responded. “You just go on over to the marshal’s office and take this up with him.”

“You open up! I mean it,” McCanles insisted.

After a spell of yelling and pounding failed to accomplish anything, he drew his gun and fired it into the air.

“You better open up this door,” he called.

The ruckus had by this time drawn Teaspoon’s attention. Jimmy was in the office with him, so the two of them came to investigate. They approached cautiously and, upon seeing the cause of the commotion, Teaspoon moved in behind the troublemakers, while Jimmy circled round to the back of the bunkhouse. He rapped on the rear door to draw Rachel’s attention and softly called her name.

“Jimmy,” Rachel breathed in relief as she let him into the bunkhouse. She handed him the rifle she’d snatched up.

“It looked like there were three of them,” she informed him quietly.

“Yeah, I seen ‘em. Teaspoon’s coverin’ ‘em from outside. We’ll take care of ‘em. You better get away from the door.”

Rachel did as he asked and watched worriedly as Jimmy checked the rifle and unbolted the front door.

“I’m openin’ the door,” he called to the men outside. “The marshal and I got you covered. Stand back and put up your guns.”

“We don’t want no trouble,” McCanles answered. “Just my money. We’ll back off.”

Jimmy slowly pulled the door open, maneuvering it to give himself maximum cover. From that position, he did not have a clear view. He could see Woods and Gordon in the street, but no sign of McCanles.

He slipped quickly across the opening to press against the wall on the other side of the door in order to look out at a different angle. That split second’s exposure of himself as a target tempted a shot from McCanles. He wasn’t about to back down now he’d come this far, not in front of his boy and his men.

The bullet spat through the open door, missing both Jimmy and Rachel, and Hickok’s lightning reactions kicked in. He swung the rifle up, sighted McCanles aiming another shot his way, and fired before McCanles could pull the trigger.

McCanles fell. His boy yelled, “Pa! You shot my pa!” and ran to throw himself down by his side.

Woods and Gordon drew their guns. Jimmy dropped the rifle and flung himself out the door, drawing his twin Colts as he dropped to the floor of the bunkhouse porch. He pulled both triggers almost simultaneously, wounding both men.

Teaspoon ran up, his gun drawn, ordering the men to lay down their weapons. Instead, Woods whirled and shot at the marshal, a clean miss. Teaspoon returned the fire and Woods crumpled to the street.

Gordon dropped to his knees and prepared to shoot at Hickok.

“Don’t try it,” Jimmy warned him.

The injured man ignored the warning and fired, his bullet splintering the planking next to where Jimmy lay. Jimmy shot him again, this time hitting Gordon fatally.

The three men lay still. The boy was sobbing over his father. Jimmy slowly rose to his feet and slid his Colts back into their holsters. Rachel ran out the door and laid her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged off her comforting touch and stepped down into the street to face the death that had resulted from his actions.

He stopped next to Teaspoon. They stood side by side looking down at the three bodies.

“That money weren’t worth dyin’ for, Teaspoon,” Jimmy said. “Why didn’t they just lay down their guns? We tried to give ‘em a chance.”

“I dunno, son,” Teaspoon wearily answered. “Some men have their self-worth wrapped up in some funny notions. Guess we’ll never know what was in their heads.”

*****

It was a quick hearing by the circuit judge, just a formality really. Everyone knew there wasn’t any question of a verdict other than self-defense. Many were surprised there was the bother of a hearing at all, but it seemed like there were always more legalities to be observed lately. It wasn’t like the old days when this was really the frontier. Nebraska was getting downright civilized.

A crowd poured out of the makeshift courthouse and dispersed along the street, many spectators still avidly discussing the case.

“The marshal was just doing his job of course, but you have to wonder about that Hickok, him being such a dangerous gunslinger and all. The McCanles boy says he shot his father down in cold blood!”

“Did you hear the three that got killed weren’t the whole gang? There were more men shooting at that poor Dunne woman that got away.”

Several pointed out Rachel to their neighbors as she herded the group of riders toward the bunkhouse. The speculating continued.

“I heard there were two more that got away with bullets in ‘em that died later, besides them that was wounded. Thank the Lord that Hickok boy was there to save her life.”

“He was wounded himself, you know, mortal bad, but he just kept on fighting till the end.”

Listening to the comments, Jimmy shook his head and turned to Teaspoon.

“Heat that?” he asked in disgust. “Half of ‘em makin’ me out to be a murderer, half of ‘em some kind of hero. Before you know it, it’ll be ten men I fought off and killed single-handed, without no help from you. When are people gonna stop believin’ all them lies about me and start knowin’ the truth?”

“Jimmy, anyone that knows you knows the truth about you,” Teaspoon answered his young friend somewhat sorrowfully, “but there’s always gonna be some would rather listen to the lies just ‘cause they make a more interestin’ story. If you let ‘em bother you, you’ll never find any peace. You’re just gonna hafta learn whether you’re dealin’ with a friend or a fool.”

“That boy believes I murdered his father.” Jimmy indicated Monroe McCanles walking away with the crowd. “He didn’t listen to no stories, he was there. He saw what happened.”

“He saw his father killed. That’s a powerful tragedy for a young boy. If he loved his father, he’s not gonna see the bad in what he done. That memory’s all he’s got left, and he’s gonna hang onto the way he wants to see it.”

Jimmy nodded.

“I guess I can understand that.”

He narrowed his eyes, looking off at the horizon and into the past at the same time, thinking for a moment of his own father.

Teaspoon gripped Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Hickok, killin’s never easy. If it got to be easy, that’d be when I’d start worryin’ about ya. But as for the rest of it, what people believe or don’t believe about what you done, all that matters is what you believe about it.”

Hickok smiled at his friend… his mentor. Teaspoon had a way of showing a body a clearer look at a thing than a week’s worth of fretting over it could provide.

“Thanks, Teaspoon.”

The two headed down the street to the bunkhouse where they knew they had friends waiting for them.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Note: This story is based on an actual historical incident. Hickok shot and killed David McCanles at Rock Creek Station on July 12, 1861. Different versions of the event range from picturing him as a fearless hero to a cold-blooded killer. Today both sides of this fight have explored a new frontier together, as descendents of McCanles and of a Pony Express rider were both astronauts in the space shuttle program.


End file.
